Cakes And Babies
by ToryTigress92
Summary: AU ending to the film. Pomfrey gets away with the script of Queen Lear, and Annabelle and the St Trinians' girls catch up with him, breaking into his mansion at night. But not everything goes according to plan… Pomfrey/Annabelle. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Cakes And Babies

**Ok, yeah so this is just a oneshot, and seriously I need to get this idea out of my head now. So warning ahead, plenty of smut and possibly slightly perverted content, although I'm guessing Annabelle is about 18, so it just depends on your outlook.**

**And David Tennant is extremely hot in this; even with grey hair…drool!**

**Ok (deep breath) AU ending to the film. Pomfrey gets away with the script of Queen Lear, and Annabelle and the St Trinians' girls catch up with him, breaking into his mansion at night.**

**But not everything goes according to plan…**

* * *

Night reigned over a sprawling mansion, the green mazes and trimmed edges of the flowerbeds like dark islands in an even darker sea of blackness.

Through this pool of limpid darkness, five lone figures ran through the shadows, clothed in black to better hide their figures.

They dodged the security men and the Dobermans on leashes, making it to the doors leading in from the terrace.

They crouched down, beneath the cover of a hedge, as one spoke.

"Ok, girls. Time to divide and conquer, Bianca and Zoë you take the ground floor, Chelsea and Roxy, you take the first floor," Annabelle hissed, at which all four girls nodded.

"What you gonna do?" Bianca whispered, her jaw working away at a wad of gum. Annabelle didn't scold her for it; she knew it was the Rude Girl's way of dealing with the pressure.

"I'm gonna take the upper floor," Annabelle replied, before she tapped her ear com. "Lucy, you there?"

"Every step of the way," the Geek replied. "The second lot of security guards will have passed you in a minute."

"Bianca, Zoë, get ready to go," Annabelle hissed. "Look for the manuscript, and give me a shout over the comms if you find it."

"Whatever," Bianca muttered, before with a hissed signal, they stood up and sprinted over to the terrace doors. Annabelle watched with bated breath, one eye on the security guards, until the pair got through the lock on the doors.

With a hiss of triumph, they were through.

"Ok, Chelsea, Roxy go!" she muttered, at which the Posh Totty and the Groupie rushed forward, and through the now open door. They would take the inside route, while Annabelle would take the outside route.

Looked like all those climbing lessons Daddy paid for her to take would come in handy.

"Alright, go Annabelle!" Lucy said in her ear, and the Head Girl dashed forward. She squashed herself to the wall, into the shadows as another pair of security guards rounded the corner of the house. She held her breath, waiting until they'd passed her by, before slipping silently around the corner.

"Ok, Annabelle, Pomfrey's study is right under where you are now. Good luck," Lucy muttered, at which Annabelle nodded.

The cool night air whipped around her, as she dug the grappling hook out of her rucksack, and unwound the cord.

Praying it would work, she lassoed it and swung, aiming for the stone edge of the balcony above her head.

The metal spikes gripped and held, as Annabelle stifled a triumphant squeal.

"Remind me to give Tania and Tara extra sweets for a month, for that Special Forces shopping subscription they took out," she muttered, at which delighted giggles erupted in her ear.

Digging deep, Annabelle took hold of the rope and started to climb.

A moment later she cursed, as she slipped and grazed her knee through the leather of her trousers.

With a muffled growl, she looked up at Pomfrey's bedroom, a few windows over, and glared.

"This time it's personal, Pomfrey!"

* * *

Earlier that very day, Pomfrey had plucked the manuscript for the real Shakespeare's play, Queen Lear from their hands at gunpoint. He'd mocked them and humiliated them, and now Annabelle swore she wouldn't let that misogynistic pig away with it. She'd get it back and expose him if it was the very last thing she did.

Even though his silver hair and posh boy accent sent unwelcome shivers down Annabelle's spine.

When he'd winked at Roxy, she had felt a surge of mingled jealousy and disgust.

She shuddered again, halfway up the grapple line now, and swore she would take very sweet revenge when she caught up with him.

At last she reached the top end of the line, and clamoured over the balustrade, shoving one booted foot over the edge.

She knelt by the balcony doors, and noticed the keypad beside the lock.

"Lucy? What's the code?" she whispered hurriedly.

"8765434679908." Lucy frantically recited, and Annabelle's fingers flew across the pad.

The lock clicked, and she smirked. "I'm in."

* * *

Piers awoke from a very deep sleep, full of dreams of young feisty brunettes in school uniform, to a steady bleeping noise coming from a display beside his bed. He turned his head to the side, taking it in.

A second later he blinked his way back to full consciousness.

Someone had accessed his study from the outside.

A small creak of floorboard sounded, and he grinned.

If he were a betting man, he would bet his fortune it was the St Trinian's girls.

They just did not know when to give up, well they were about to be taught a lesson.

They were, no doubt, after the manuscript.

As he swung his long legs out of bed, his mind drifted to the young woman who had stood up to him today.

The impudent, feisty, arrogant little girl with big eyes and red lips, and waves of tumbling brunette hair.

Annabelle Fritton.

Her family had been his sworn enemy for generations, yet he was most certainly drawn to her. And she to him, if the look of jealousy on her face when he feigned interest towards the rock groupie wannabe was anything to go by.

Oh yes, that would be the icing on the cake if he broke that little Miss Fritton's spirit.

He savagely hoped it was she rooting around in his study now.

He slung a dressing gown over his pyjama trousers, and crept through the door.

Annabelle was interrupted from her search, as a very familiar voice spoke from the shadows.

"Well, well, well little Miss Fritton. We meet again," Piers drawled, as he stepped into the moonlight, and the two adversaries watched each other warily.

"Can't say it's a pleasure, Pomfrey," she sneered, standing tall before him. Her long hair fell gracefully around her shoulders, fire in her wide eyes.

Fire he desired.

He'd wanted her found. Now he wanted her crushed beneath him, and destroyed by her own desires for him.

So she would admit and recognise his superiority over her, as a man.

Devious mind already planning ahead, he started to circle her, his appreciative eyes already taking in the sleek figure shown to advantage by the leather trousers and rollneck.

Annabelle's eyes unconsciously drank in the sight of his toned chest under the silk dressing gown, and the scant light gleaming off his silver hair.

Piers noted her interest with satisfaction.

"We _**are**_ in trouble aren't we, little Miss Fritton?" he asked suavely, stepping closer. "But why are you here, I wonder? Couldn't get enough humiliation back in London? Just couldn't wait to prove yet again, that all women are good for is making cakes and making babies?"

Annabelle merely glared at him.

He halted in front of her, leaning in as her breath hitched and her lips parted instinctively.

"Or are you here for the manuscript?" he asked, smirking smugly as she shivered, and turned wide eyes to his.

Oh this was going to be fun.

Annabelle saw with a shiver, the flames in Piers' eyes, saw the appreciation of her fear and her body, like the misogynistic bully he was.

Perverted git!

However, she couldn't ignore her own reaction to him, to that sexy head of grey hair and those intense brown eyes.

And that accent…

Get a grip Annabelle!

She forced her lust away, as she head butted the leader of AD1, and ran for her life, already talking frantically into her ear comm.

"Get out of here! Everyone, just abort mission. Abort the mission!" she screeched, but then a hand closed around her elbow, stopping her and hauling her back against a horridly familiar toned chest, steely arms enfolding her.

A body she'd been perusing not two seconds ago.

"Where do you think you're going, little Miss Fritton?" Piers snarled in her ear, as he plucked the comms device out, from which Lucy's voice emanated frantically.

"What is it, Annabelle? What's wrong?"

"Isn't it past your bedtime, little Miss Fritton?" Piers growled, before he threw it across the room, where it smashed against the wall with a crash of static.

Annabelle felt his hand clamp over her mouth and nose, and she struggled fiercely for a few minutes before she finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

* * *

When she came to, it was to a highly mortifying and precarious situation.

She was tied down to Pomfrey's bed, each of her wrists and ankles to the four bedposts, jacketless.

She tugged on the silk bindings around her wrists, but couldn't get free. Her ankles restraints were less strong, and she felt as if she could get them free relatively quickly.

Whoever had tied her down hadn't taken much time to do it properly.

But her escape attempt was cut short when the door opened and Piers Pomfrey walked in.

"Why hello, Annabelle. Glad to see you decided to stop by," he drawled, walking over to her and turning the lamp on.

The dim light washed over his pale skin, and Annabelle gulped. This was not good.

"I do hope you're not too uncomfortable," Piers continued smugly, and Annabelle felt her temper snap.

"What kind of pervert ties schoolgirls up on his bed?" she snapped angrily, pulling on her wrist restraints pointedly.

"Sometimes, Annabelle," he murmured, and she had to suppress a shiver at the way he pronounced her name. "women need a little…persuasion, just a little to accept the fact that men are the superior sex, particularly in the bedroom."

She stared at him, jaw dropping when he suddenly reclined beside her, leaning on his elbow as he pinned her with his intense gaze.

"And I do like my women with a little bit of fire, Annabelle," he breathed, leaning in and raising his hand. Using the barest of touches he just grazed Annabelle's lips, then down her chin and neck, to the buttons on the front of her rollneck.

His fingers left a trail of fire, that almost had Annabelle gasping.

But her pride stopped her, just.

Nevertheless her fists still clenched in their bonds.

Piers saw this with another little smirk, but this time it was seductive rather than smug as he gazed down at Annabelle.

He continued to tease her with his fingers, gently teasing the skin on her face and neck, peeling away the rollneck so he could access her skin better, all the while smirking down at her as she began to fail in fighting her desires.

"Just admit it, Annabelle, you want me. You want me to dominate you, as is the natural order of things," he breathed, leaning further over her as his own desires began to take hold. Her red lips were maddening, tauntingly close yet he did not give in.

Not yet.

"You like this, don't you Annabelle?" he asked, caressing the skin of her neck one last time, before he abruptly left her side, grinning when he heard her stifled gasp of disappointment.

"I don't know how anyone could enjoy a filthy, perverted, disgusting, slimy bigot like you touching them!" she exploded, arching as far off the bed as she could. "I certainly don't!"

"Liar," Piers murmured, undoing his dressing gown and letting it fall to the ground. Her eyes widened, as he knelt on the bed, in front of her, untying her feet.

She kicked them free, but before she could do anything he had crawled between her legs, and now supported himself directly over her.

She inhaled brokenly, taking in his scent.

Expensive cologne and cigars…and whiskey.

Oh God she was in trouble now.

"You won't get away with this, Pomfrey. They'll come for me," she breathed defiantly, at which he scoffed.

"Oh I don't think so, Annabelle. This time, they won't be getting very far past my security. Now what should I do with you, I wonder?" he muttered, pausing and pretending to think seriously. "I could phone the police, after all you've been caught in the act of breaking and entering, and no-one would believe your little sob story but…"

"But what?" Annabelle asked nervously, despite herself. This was not going to end well.

Piers' smile was pure, 100% predator as he leaned down and cupped her jaw with his hand.

"I have another idea," he growled, before swooping down and taking her lips with his mercilessly.

Annabelle floundered under his aggressive kiss, his hand squeezing her jaw slightly so she had no choice but to open her mouth and allow him entrance, which he took with devastating arrogance and speed. She scrambled to catch up, writhing underneath him in an attempt to get him off her, but all she ended doing was pressing herself against his hardening body, scalding her through her clothes with his heat.

Piers' free hand drifted down to her right leg, pulling it up and pressing it to his hip, so she opened herself to him, as she gasped into his mouth. Piers left her mouth to watch her, as he slid his hand up the back of her thigh, watched her pupils dilate as pleasure began to build under her skin.

"You like that, don't you Annabelle?" he whispered, before he kissed her again dominantly, aggressively but this time she returned it, attacking his tongue with hers defiantly, drawing him into a duel that excited and aroused him. He tore himself away again, just for a moment. "You like someone dominating you, taking mastery over you. As it was meant to be."

"Oh get over yourself, Pomfrey," Annabelle snapped crossly, her red lips swollen and her hair wildly splayed over the pillows.

"That's my girl," Piers murmured, just lowering himself to kiss her again when there came an insistent knock at the door.

"Umm…sir?" a familiar voice called, and Piers rolled his eyes.

"Peters, I'm busy!" he yelled, never taking his eyes off Annabelle's but Peters wasn't going to go away.

"Um, sorry sir, but you need to see this," the nervous young man replied, and Piers sighed.

He hauled himself off of Annabelle, and picked his discarded robe off the floor, shrugging into it.

"We'll continue this later, Annabelle. That's a promise," he growled, sending her a warning look before leaving the room.

Annabelle waited two minutes, counting to 120 in her head before exhaling in relief.

"In your dreams, Pomfrey," she snarled, pulling on her restraints, twisting them rhythmically to loosen them.

In moments, she was free and she sat up, swinging her legs off the bed.

Now to escape.

But halfway towards the balcony doors in the study, she stopped.

She come so far, been through way too much to just leave without the manuscript. Plus the girls at school would never let her forget it if she came back without it.

Shuddering, she tried to think seriously about where it could be hidden.

But Piers' attentions were making that task very difficult as her skin flickered with desire.

Shaking her head to clear it, she moved around the room, checking the obvious places: his desk, under the rug by the hearth, etc.

Ten minutes later, however, she was still manuscript-less, and time was running out.

Her eyes came to rest on a portrait of Lord Pomfrey, just over the crackling fire, and she rolled her eyes.

Surely not?

It was too obvious a place, not to mention clichéd. But then again, Annabelle pondered, maybe that's why he did it. Maybe he put it in the most obvious place because it was the most _**obvious**_ place, so a potential burglar wouldn't even think about checking it because it was too obvious?

Shrugging her shoulders, she stepped forward.

Worth a try.

She ran her fingers along the gilt frame, looking for a catch or a second back , and sure enough she found one as she swung the canvas away, but not the frame and sure enough there was a dark-grey safe, attached to the wall and locked with three coded tumblers.

Oh shitake mushrooms!

She didn't have Lucy in her ear for help this time, and Pomfrey could be back any minute. She didn't want to end up tied to the bed again.

Or did she?

No, bad Annabelle, stop thinking about that! She reprimanded herself, as she stepped back, wondering what to do.

Then she heard the footsteps.

Pomfrey was coming.

* * *

Piers stepped back into his bedroom, expecting to find Annabelle still tied up and dutifully awaiting their recommencement of their previous activities. A second later his fist met with the wooden panelling of his room, when he saw the empty bed and the loose silk bindings.

Damnit!

_Why_, he wondered bitterly, _did women have to be so bloody independent! So bloody insistent on refusing to follow the orders of the genuinely superior sex?_

Well he'd catch up with Little Miss Fritton, and soon.

Very soon.

Much sooner than he expected when, as he walked into his study, he was bashed in the head with a cricket bat, falling to the ground in minutes.

Annabelle stepped out of the shadows, looking down on the prone form of Sir Piers Pomfrey.

A pleased smirk lit up her face.

Good, now she had a captive to interrogate as to the code for the safe.

"Right you, come on," she muttered, stepping forward and looping her arms around his shoulders, and trying to drag him upright.

He was _bloody_ heavy!

For such a skinny bloke, he was like a sack of bricks in her arms.

Annabelle fought to ignore the taut body against hers, as she manhandled him into his desk chair.

Panting, she placed her hands on her hips as she looked at the unconscious man, and glared.

"I should have known you'd find some way to be as difficult as possible," she growled, before stalking away to the bedroom, untying the silk bindings and returning to the study to tie Pomfrey's hands behind the chair tightly.

That done, she picked up a glass of water on the side, and threw it in his face.

Piers was rudely awakened by the sensation of cold water coursing down his neck, as he spluttered and looked up into the glittering eyes of Annabelle Fritton.

Glancing down, he tugged at his wrists but found them tightly bound, before he registered the throbbing in his head.

Glaring darkly, he raised his eyes to Annabelle's, and renewed his efforts to free himself.

"Don't bother, Pomfrey. You're going nowhere," she purred, and he took in that look in her eye with distinct misgivings.

"Annabelle, let me out of this chair or you will regret it!" he growled, teeth bared bestially. The young girl in question rolled her eyes.

Being at St Trinian's for two years had taught her a thing or two, including some tricks and tips learned from the Posh Totties themselves.

So Annabelle made sure to place as much as pressure as she could on his groin, when she sat astride him, pulling her hard against him with a playful grin. He sucked in a breath, agonised pleasure washing over his hard face, as Annabelle fought not to let the same show on her own face.

"I'm not letting you go until you tell me the code to that safe behind you. Then I'll let you out, if you're a good boy," she purred, pulling herself against his lips, so they brushed but did not meet.

"Go to hell, Fritton!" he snarled loudly, and she smirked.

"Trying to attract attention, Pomfrey? You've forgotten this area of the house is soundproof, except at the doors. It was in the schematics," she filled him in, as he gaped at her.

Oh well, worth a try and he had definitely worked those knots holding his hand imprisoned a little looser.

Annabelle felt deliciously wanton as she playfully shifted against Piers' hips, rocking gently at which he groaned and pushed upwards against her.

"Oh no you don't," she muttered in his ear, her tongue flicking out to trace the whorl tauntingly. "Tell me the code for the safe."

"No," he breathed, at which Annabelle tut-tutted, and faced him again.

At the look of wild desire on his face, she both shivered and laughed as he bucked his hips against hers again.

"How do you like it now, Piers?" she breathed, using his first name, purring like a cat. Her captive groaned, and worked harder at those damned knots. "How do you like being dominated and tied up like an animal?"

And with that she kissed him, full and deep on the lips, grinding her hips into his wildly. Aching to touch her, yet unable to, Piers returned the movement, unwilling to admit he was rather enjoying this.

When Annabelle wrenched away from his lips, both were panting heavily.

"Untie me, Annabelle, now," Piers ordered, despite being so close to untying himself. He wanted to see how far she would go.

"Tell me the code, and maybe I will," she breathed, and she was surprised when he appeared to capitulate.

"Fine, it's 999666. Now untie me, little minx," he growled, at which Annabelle smiled, biting her bottom lip provocatively as he groaned and pressed his lips to her jugular. It was Annabelle's turn to groan, as his body strained against hers. "Untie me, Annabelle."

"And if I don't?" Annabelle asked teasingly, as his eyes darkened with fiery lust.

"Then I'm going to shag you senseless," Piers muttered, at which the girl sitting astride him shivered unconsciously.

"Not today," she breathed, coming back to herself, dismounting him and stalking across to the safe. Pomfrey watched her go, at last slipping his hands away from the bonds, but he stayed still.

He wanted to see what she would do.

Annabelle typed in the keycode, and sure enough the manuscript of Queen Lear lay within. She swiped it up, shut the safe and turned back to Pomfrey.

His eyes were burning with lust and desire, as she walked back to him and sat astride him once more.

"Untie me, Annabelle, right now! Or face the consequences," he growled, and his tone sent shivers down her spine. She forced a mocking expression onto her face as she framed his between her hands.

"What you gonna do, spank me?" she sneered, at which a calculating expression crept into Piers' eyes.

"Don't tempt me," he muttered warningly. "Just let me have you," he murmured next, and his tone made it a downright order. Annabelle rolled her eyes, unable to resist him one last time, as she bent her head and kissed him passionately, wildly, moaning when his tongue started doing wonderful things to hers. She ran her hands through his grey hair, grinding into his hips, pressing her breasts against him as he groaned.

Breathless and dizzy, Annabelle drew back and got off him. "Not today, bigot-boy. Not ever, for that matter. Cheers for this," she picked up the manuscript and began to make for the balcony doors.

All through their kiss, Piers had had to fight keep his hands down and behind him, instead of letting them roam that little minx's body like they wanted, and show her who was truly master around here.

Now he was up from his chair before Annabelle could so much as reach for the door handle. She yelped as he spun her around, the manuscript falling from her fingers, as he forced her against the door, shoving his hips between her legs roughly, and yanking her arms above her head, imprisoning both of her wrists in one of his hands.

"Not so fast, Fritton," he growled, before crushing her face to his and kissing her aggressively. Her fists clenched and unclenched wildly, unable to fight, as she slowly gave into his kiss.

His silk dressing gown quickly slid from his shoulders, when Piers broke from Annabelle's hot mouth and slid his own down her neck, as she arched into his hold, suspended between his hard, tense body and the unforgiving wood at her back. He rocked his hips into hers, creating an unbearable friction, as she cried out.

Piers registered that primal sound with delight, as he felt her submit.

Victory, at last.

He retracted that last statement when her hands snaked from his grip, and began exploring him, one ruffling his hair while the other clutched his shoulders, blood-red painted nails digging into his sensitive skin.

With a growl, he tore her away from the wall and looped her legs around his waist, before carrying her into the bedroom. He threw her down on the bed, before reaching for the fastenings of her trousers before she could fight.

As her clothes scattered across the floor, coherent thought fled Annabelle's mind, as she reached for him, to bring him down to her for a kiss, running her hands all over his naked body delightedly.

However when she felt him at the juncture of her thighs, she froze and pushed him away.

"Please, stop just a second," she breathed, fighting to draw breath. Piers looked down on her darkly, gritting his teeth against the urge to just take her and be damned.

"What is it?" he asked, feeling some unknown emotion well up. Was it…_concern_?

"I-I'm a virgin. This is my first time," she muttered embarrassedly, as she felt him shift against her, making her shudder and bite her lip.

His eyes darkening at the sight, Piers did pause for a moment, taking in what she had said. For all his misogynistic views, he did ensure his women were as well pleasured as he, just as long as they admitted his natural dominance.

So he wouldn't hurt Annabelle, not when he was about to get what he wanted so badly. _Needed_ so badly.

A even more importantly, the thought he was to be her first was erotic and attractive to his possessive, dominant nature.

So when he recalled himself to the task at hand, and saw the apprehension and vulnerability in her eyes, he brushed her lips with his soothingly.

"A virgin, hmm? Excellent," he muttered, and with that he thrust into her, drowning out her cry of pain and discomfort with his kiss.

Annabelle screamed from the pain, but as soon as he moved, the pain was replaced by pleasure as she writhed beneath him, kissing every inch of skin she could reach.

Piers looked down on _his_ Annabelle, _his_ ineffably beautiful Annabelle as he made love to her ruthlessly and thoroughly, so she was moaning his name.

Submitting to him, whether she liked it or not.

* * *

Annabelle awoke, Piers' arm slung possessively across her lower back, and had to stifle a groan.

She was so _sore_. If Chelsea had told her sex was so painful first time round, she mightn't have bothered.

_That's not quite true_, she thought suddenly. _It's alright once you get going_.

More than alright, even.

She looked across at the man who had sated her so thoroughly last night, her sworn enemy.

_Oh well, that's gone out the window now_, she thought wryly.

Piers was deeply asleep, as she carefully manoeuvred herself out from under his arm, and started gathering her clothes up again.

Slipping into them as silently as she could, she had just finished lacing her boots up when she felt Piers stir. Freezing, she waited as he slowly turned over in bed, the tangled sheets catching around his legs, and she took her chance.

She grabbed the manuscript, and was at the balcony doors when she heard his roar of mixed anger and exasperation.

"ANNABELLE!"

Panic filling her, she was surprised to find her grapple still waiting for her on the balcony as she rappelled down it, and began to run as fast as she could, as the alarm was raised all over the mansion.

She'd just made the perimeter fence, when she turned back, and at the balcony she had escaped from just moments ago stood Piers.

Summoning a teasing, challenging grin, she blew him a kiss, knowing he would come after her, knowing he wasn't about to let her go.

And after last night, she wasn't sure she wanted him to.

* * *

_**The End**_

**Anyway please R&R! Give it a go, even if it really isn't your thing ;) **


	2. Author's Note: Sequel

**Re: New Oneshot**

**I've written a new oneshot to follow this one, called 'The Chase Begins', and I hope you enjoy.**


End file.
